


Instinct

by Ayzro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Unrequited Love, Veela, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-10-11 20:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10474302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayzro/pseuds/Ayzro
Summary: Draco Malfoy, yearns for the one thing he has no chance of acquiring. The heart of Harry Potter.





	1. Chapter One

There was nothing graceful in the boy’s movements. One foot lagging behind the firm pace of the other. Every other stride causing him to upheave the strap on his shoulder in the prevention of his books crashing onto the floor. He looked weathered, even facially one could see the sheer sickliness on his already pale face. The dark circles framing his eyes like a Francis Bacon portrait, something traumatised and distorted. He hadn’t slept in days, or perhaps it was months, constant insomina. During the war he couldn’t sleep, the pleas and cries ringing in his ears like tinnitus reminding him of his sins, not much has changed.

Biting down hard on his tongue, he forced his side into the oversized door, throwing all of his feeble weight into the motion to enter the wing. The door fell open with him landing on the stone tiles in a fit of panic. The rough edges of stone lying under his fingers. He knew it should feel freezing to the touch but alas he felt nothing. Unable to find the strength to stand, he allowed defeat to wash over him, the pain too much.

******

“Mr Malfoy, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you for at least another week.”

IDarkness plagued the room when Draco came around, he must have been out some time. Madam Pomfrey stood to the side of the bed, her pearly white uniform immaculate as she bored into him with an ambiguous frown. Unable to take the stare, he turned back to looking at the beams above him. 

“This is easily aided Draco, you know that. I don’t know why you put yourself through all of this unnecessary pain,” she huffed, searching through her trolley of ointments and potions. 

Draco couldn’t answer her, he never could.

“You know it’s getting worse,” her voice dropped to a whisper as she perched on the edge of the bed, “Four days Draco, you only lasted four days after your last visit.”

The blonde closed his eyes. It was one thing knowing you’re weak but another to hear it from somebody else.

“Your back looks like you had been burnt, it was so blistered. In my professional opinion, you really need to-“

“No,” his voice was hoarse and barely carried. His lifeless grey eyes reappearing to look at the Healer with as much certainty as he could muster, “No.”

“You have to do something or you know what will happen.”

“You have potions,” Draco sighed as he pushed himself up on his elbows with great difficulty, “I’ll see the school year out”.

From his new angle he was aware he was the only person occupying the ward, at least sometimes he gets lucky. Last time there had been a third year in with a mild case of dragon pox and Draco had to be charmed so he was unrecognisable.

“I don’t think you can Mr Malfoy,” her voice was strained, eyes darting from her hands to his face and back again. “You see I’ve just given you my last vial.”

“S—Slughorn, he can brew-“

“It takes three weeks to brew, you didn’t last four days Draco. Our only other option is St Mungos sending a batch over, however, I would need to provide patient information… You and I both know I can’t do that. I would lose my job. I still might.”

Draco sighed. It was common knowledge that after the war, one of the first laws Minister Shakelbolt approved was the restriction of Death Eaters accessing aid at St Mungos. It was lucky that he got a second chance at finishing his 7th year. A sense of unease fogged up his chest, it was getting tighter. This was it, this was the end for Draco.

He felt the weight lift from the mattress leaving him alone. Once again.

“I’m so sorry Draco.”

*****

As usual, Draco couldn’t sleep. Thoughts were flying into his head and his back was killing him. The potion normally managed to represses most of his pain but like Madam Pomfrey had said, it was getting worse and he didn't have long left. This time the potion wasn’t curing the agony held behind his shoulder blades. The urge he had to let go was almost consuming but his instincts knew it wasn't allowed. 

Draco knew his wings would be beautiful, most definitely the most attractive part of him, Veela or not. He hoped he would get to see them. He knew his personality was nothing to be desired nor was his body after the physical strain it was going through. However, a good Veela should never reveal his wings, unless it is to his mate and that wasn’t an option for Draco.

Draco’s mate would never want him. He knew that from the beginning. Pulled out of Hogwarts just before his 17th birthday, Draco was ultimately alone when his inheritance took place. It wasn’t until Potter was thrown in front of him with a stinging jinx that Draco knew. Harry Potter was his mate. 

There was never any suggestion Draco would make it out of the war alive. Even if he did, it was more unlikely that Potter would. Either way was a death wish for Draco. For his own safety, Draco had hidden his inheritance well from the Dark Lord. While it was advantageous for women to be Veela, it was frowned upon for a male. It was a rare and due to the pairings being male it wasn’t something that all of society was agreeable on. He was a freak.

Veelas live for their mates, it was their nature and the moment Potter briefly died was the worst pain Draco had ever suffered. While he hadn’t even known at the time Potter’s whereabouts, he felt it. He vividly recalls being overwhelmed, dropping to his knees and letting his Veela cry out to an awful tune. The agonising stabbing from inside his body, even the Dark Lord’s cruciatus never wounded him quite like that. 

******

_Draco had found solace in the library. Returning from being on the wrong side of the war had taken a toll on his status in Hogwarts. Even his closest of friends chose to avoided him, Blaise even transferred to Durmstrang to get away from the uproar. Slytherin was almost demolished, many of the first years being re-sorted at their parent's request, leaving only a handful of students occupying the dungeons. Even with such little numbers, none of them wanted Draco around. He was an enemy in his own home. Even going down the hallways he was met with sneers and the occasional shove, people made their distaste for him very obvious._

_Books don’t hold any resentment for Draco, they didn't know he sins. He could spend his days flicking through the aged parchment, forgetting his life, his curse. It was all he had left, the need to complete his 7th year with the best grades possible. He knew there was a strong chance of unemployability for a wizard like him, but the least he could do was have his qualifications._

_“Oh bloody hell.”_

_Draco’s eyes flicked up from the book on Elvish Laws and unsurprisingly found the Saviour staring back at him with a look of growing irritation. Impassively, he rolled his eyes but even with the raven-haired boy stood a table away, Draco felt the burning need travelling up his veins. This was the closest he had been to his mate in a week. He yearned to reach out and push their skin together, to feel something more._

_His eyes racked over Potter's frame. He was sporting a hideous muggle hoody with a pair of dark jeans. Draco had to ponder if all muggles had such an awful dress sense._

_“Are you stalking me Malfoy?”_

_If Draco was being truthful, yes he had been stalking Harry Potter. He had been for a quite a lengthy period of time. While he never divulged the identity of his mate to her, Madam Pomfrey did know it was complicated and advised he should try and maintain a close proximity. So, he learnt that in between classes Granger liked to sit in the library and Potter followed like a sheep, hence Draco started going to the library. He sat silently at a table placed a bookshelf away from Potter's regular table, he made sure he was always concealed but had a clear view through the transfiguration section. He always reached the library first just to avoid Potter. Potter never seemed to walk past Draco’s aisle so he stayed hidden. Until now._

_“Potter,” Draco feigned boredom to conceal his excitement, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you stumbled upon me.”_

_Potter defensively crossed his arms, causing Draco to witness the neckline of Potter’s hoody shift and show a display a little more of his unblemished skin. His back began burning with the need to release his wings, to show his mate what he was missing._

_“What about all the other times Malfoy?” Potter spat out his last name with disgust, “I see you in class watching me, at meal times, hell you’re everywhere!”_

_It felt like Potter had thrown cold water over him. The Gryffindor never seemed to be overly observant but perhaps Draco just wasn’t as sneaky as he had believed. He’d been caught and he didn't know what to do. His Veela side was reeling in the fact Potter had paid any attention to him, Veela thrive on attention and Draco hadn’t overly be exposed to attention from his mate. He tried to control himself, letting his well-trimmed nails dig into his palms under the table._

_“What do you want Malfoy? To thank me for speaking at your trial? Or for saving your life? Or maybe you’re just waiting to finish me off? Saying that you couldn’t even kill Dumbledore,” he harshly laughed looking at the shocked Slytherin. “I only spoke at the trial because I owed it to your mother and I saved your life because unlike you I don't enjoy letting people die”._

_“I didn’t enjoy-“_

_“-You know what, you’re not even worth my time. You’ll never be more than a pathetic version of your father. Just stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. If I can finish school pretending you don’t exist I’ll be satisfied”._

_Harry shoved his hands into the pockets of his worn out jeans and departed the library, leaving an unstable Draco stuck to his chair. Everything Potter had said was true, there was no denying it, he was pathetic. However, it still tore him apart to hear it from the lips of his mate._

_His Veela cried at the neglect of his mate. Draco knew this feeling well, the dizziness that had started to envelop him. He was losing control. He knew he needed to get to the hospital wing urgently. His last potion was days ago, he didn't understand, they normally lasted at least two weeks.  
A burning rage was steaming from his heart, he wanted to destroy everything. Pretty much rejected, Draco wasn’t sure how he would cope with the repercussions of his broken heart. His wings straining themselves inside him, jabbing his vertebrae to get out. A sick part of him liked it._


	2. Chapter Two

“I reckon he's leading you into a false sense of security acting all strange to get your attention, then _bam_!”

Harry quirked his mouth, he’d spent all afternoon going through theories behind Malfoy’s odd behaviour. They had discussed the possibility of the dark mark reacting around Harry’s presence, Malfoy having PTSD and the prospect Draco had had his pumpkin juice spiked.

While they were all interesting and slightly amusing options, none of them felt right. He couldn’t put his finger on it but Malfoy had been acting sketchy since the beginning of the school year. It was apparent the boy had no friends and yes, Harry was aware of the teasing but there was something else.

“Honestly Ron! I think he just feels guilty. You said he’s been following you, but he never makes contact or tries to get close. Perhaps he just wants to keep an eye on you, maybe return the favour after you saved his life?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Harry sunk further into the plush armchair, closing his eyes before continuing, “there was just something a bit more _off_ about him, like he was hiding something and I want to find out what it is.”

*****

The Malfoy heir had learnt to welcomed shame like an old friend.

There wasn’t much dignity left in a person after a stay in Azkaban. Still, nothing could quite prepare him for Divination.

It was the fourth lesson of the day and, as far as days go it was fairly quiet. The suppressants were still making their way through his system and it seemed most of the student body felt acknowledging him was too much effort today.

The uneven spiral staircase up to the classroom was always a difficult mission, odour ridden teenagers shoving up against you trying to get the best seat in the class. He followed his normal regime, keep tense with an arm to the wall, squeezing through through the crowds so nobody would notice.

“Hermione! Seriously?”

The exasperated tone could only belong to one, Ronald Weasley. While Draco wasn’t prepared to turn around, he was aware of the bushy-haired girl forcing her way through the crowd with little apologies.

“I just don’t understand why she does this mate,” it was clear Weasley’s voice was getting closer to his back as he followed his girlfriend begrudgingly. “It’s bloody divination, she’s crap at it anyway.”

With a careless brush against Draco’s robes the slightly hunched over Weasel advanced further up the stairs and disappeared into the crowd leaving an uncomfortable presence lingering next to Draco’s side. A stolen glance confirmed his feelings. He easily recognised those vibrant eyes complimenting a bemused facial expression. He paid no mind to the Ex-Death Eater, just watched his best friends depart.

It was as Draco immersed himself in the close contact he noticed a tiny mole on Harry’s reddened cheeks. If Draco could just lift his hand upwards he would be able to feel the plush skin under his fingertips. That was when it happened.

He fell.

Completely and utterly fell.

He tripped straight up the stone steps, his robes had wrapped themselves around his foot and his knee collided with the edge of the step. It was definitely going to bruise. But this wasn’t where the issue lied, he could have quite happily stood up and carried on with his life if it weren't for Harry bloody Potter.

In mere seconds, Draco felt as if his blood had been ignited as a pair of hands pressed into his sides. Clearly, the Boy Wonder had no clue as to the identity of the clumsy male lying flat on his face but Draco didn't want to believe that. He had never experienced anything so blissful, the pads of his mate’s fingers penetrating his body, so close to his-

“-Merlin, are you alright?”

He cared. Potter cared. They were surrounded by people but Potter was solely focused on him, only his body received his touch. He pushed off the stone, turning to look directly at Harry Potter. Draco swore, if he died he would want that face sketched on his eyelids.

It was everything, yet nothing like Draco had thought. To see care in Potter’s eyes directed at him. People spoke frequently of him having his Mother’s eyes but there was no doubt they were very much his own. They were like dried parsley, crisp with a hint of darkness around the edges. The kind of green grass turned in the winter mornings when the dew consumes each and every blade. A true indicator of the change of the seasons, a sign that there is always better to come. They held a brightness that until then was only reserved for the moon as it had its nightly dance across the shimmering waters. At that moment Draco knew his pain was completely worth it. This moment was all his.

A stifled moan slipped from between his lips.

In seconds it was all over, Harry's eyelids fell into a frown. Perfection morphed quickly into something all too familiar.

“Malfoy.”

A wave of heartbreak washed over Draco as Potter scrambled his limbs back into his own robes. The affected areas of skin frozen by the lack of warmth.

Draco thought he knew everything he could about loss. Loss of himself, his Mother, friends, money, power. Everything had been ripped away from him like a plaster left on a healed over scab, but nothing sang to his sorrows quite like the loss of physical contact. Tiny cracks of light had seeped into his life and now had been gaffer taped over, leaving little more than a shadow of where his heart used to be.

“Look, just be more careful,” Potter sighed, a hand running through his wild locks. He was trying to look anywhere but Draco who was still crumpled on the steps. The last few students made their way past them, leaving the two boys alone in the airy stairwell.

“Harry?” His voice was quieter than he desired, “Why do you care?”

As soon as the words slipped out he wished he could have grabbed them in midair and yanked them back into his throat. The look Potter gave him was as peculiar as Draco felt, a mix of confusion and boredom.

“Um, did you hit your head or something?”

Draco frowned, everything was too much. His lungs were suddenly made from steel and refused to expand with the intake of oxygen. Harry was standing over his trembling body, he hadn’t walked away in disgust from having touched him. Draco tried to push himself up but he had no control over his limbs, the only thing he could feel was the sharp burn of feathers attempting to break through his flesh.

“You’re acting weird Malfoy,” Harry glanced over the feeble boy’s body. He gathered his books clumsily under his arm before walking out of Draco’s eye line.

 


	3. Chapter Three

Draco had decided then and there, to refer to the incident as divination-gate. The best yet worst moment of his existence. It was if that brief touch was to be imprinted onto his skin for the rest of eternity.

His grades had slipped due to his condition, however, he knew there was no way he could enter that room after Potter. Humiliation surrounded him like a worn out blanket. He used every ounce of energy he could muster to push himself up into a sitting position, wheezing painfully. He allowed his fingers to slip under his robes, grazing the spot where he was touched. Magic bubbling under the surface. The Veela could sense his mate was still nearby. 

“Oh-”

A sudden voice startled him into standing, albeit clumsily. His robes still wrapped around one leg. It was none other than the horrifically lanky Dean Thomas. The boy was sporting beads of sweat, racing down his forehead, a clear sign of his tardiness. Their gazes met. Irritation at the forefront of Thomas’. Draco’s heart had lept out of his chest, he must be quite the sight.

“Thomas,” he managed to croak out with some attempt of a snark.

Dean’s chocolate brown eyes turned hard and wide. He cast a look over Draco’s slim figure and returned to Draco’s wide eyes. Draco shifted slightly under the scrutiny, nobody had looked at him in such detail for months. Releasing the hold of his satchel the taller boy allowed his bag to drop carelessly down a couple of steps. 

“Draco Malfoy,” Dean took another step upwards leaving only two steps between them, hints of a woody aftershave invaded his nostrils.

He was aware that something was not right. Dean had never bothered Draco after the war, sure a handful of glares had been thrown in passing, but defiantly not an exchange of words. Shuffling backwards, the Slytherin felt the contact of his shoes with the back of the next step. 

“If you’re planning on beating-“

A deep chortle interrupted him.

“You’ll what Malfoy? Can’t run to Daddy anymore,” Dean’s lips had stretched into a nasty smirk as he took another step closer. “You sure as hell can’t hex me. Who would the teachers believe? A washed-up Death Eater or me?”

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. This was all too much, Dean was right, he was weak, he has no way to fight back. His only option was to screw his eyes shut. The impact of leather soles scuffing against stone allowed him the knowledge that Thomas was encroaching into his space. A woody smell overpowering him. Warm breaths rhythmically hit his flushed cheeks. The faint rumble of his class was mere meters away but Draco was frozen and physically far too weak to run.

“Malfoy,” his deep voice whispered only centimetres from Draco’s ear. “You look delicious.”

Suddenly a dry set of lips attached themselves to his pale neck, sucking and biting the porcelain skin. Draco’s eyes flew open, Dean was practically stood on him, arms pinning him back against the wall. The other boy’s body was responsive and Draco could feel everything. Large hands forcing their way into Draco’s robes attempting to touch every part of him.

This was wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.  
The contact burned, every kiss and touch blistered his insides. He tried to shove the boy off but Dean’s height trapped him. The lips that were exploring his neck disappeared and in seconds had hammed down on his own.

Something deep in the pit of his stomach burst. Draco pulled away in agony, managing to gain enough distance to let out a blood-curdling scream before he blacked out.

*****  
“-Bloody good at potions and wouldn’t put it past him”

“Language Mr Weasley!”

Everything was spinning like a fairground ride, loud, boisterous and lights shining everywhere. The backs of his eyelids shone white with burgundy spots slow dancing around. His skin was raw like something had clawed at him, pierced his flesh and ripped chunks away. 

The agonising sensation was still at the forefront of his mind but it was lessened by the tiny tender buzzing in his blood. A confirmation of his worst thoughts. Potter was close. 

Draco prised his eyes open. They were in an empty Divination room. In seconds he found his mate’s gaze, evergreen orbs glaring into his soul. He looked severely pissed, looking at Draco as if he had spat in his face. The Weasel to his right standing far too close for Draco’s liking. 

A whimper drew Draco’s gaze to the corner of the classroom and his blood ran cold. Dean Thomas. Wide eyes and panicked. He leant against an old desk with an angry Seamus Finnegan wrapped around his shoulders.

“Ah Mr Malfoy, I see you’ve decided to grace us with your presence!” McGonagall stepped forward, her harsh accent intruding his eardrums. “Now please give me one good reason why I shouldn’t contact the Ministry this second?”

“W-what?” He stuttered.

“Yer a sick bastard,” Finnegan pipped up, tightening his grip on Thomas.

“Finnegan,” snapped McGonagall, not taking her eyes off Draco’s. “This is a very serious matter Malfoy.”

“He, I-I don’t understand,” his head was in pieces, Potter was too close.

The headmistress glided over to the desk where Draco was perched. He could see Potter rolled his eyes. He pretended it didn’t rip out his heart.

“Look Draco,” her voice softer, more careful. “I can’t begin to understand how it must have felt to have such a… _discovery_ during the war-“

“-Discovery?” Someone must have been fucking with him, it was all so confusing. Why was Thomas even allowed to be in this room? What right did he have to look frightened? Draco's back was starting to heat up familiarly.

“I’m sure you grew up getting everything you could ever desire,” McGonagall sighed. “…However, consent isn’t one of those things.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Draco frowned, he attempted to sit up further without vomiting.

“Like I said, discovering those _preferences_ during the war must have been difficult. Not having any time to experiment but that does not give you the right to step foot into this castle and take what isn’t yours to have.”

Thomas suddenly appeared enthralled by the stonework on the floor. Was the Headmistress saying what Draco thought she was saying? 

“H-He, he…” Draco feebly pointed over to the corner, “he attacked me!”

A humourless laugh made Draco’s blood race. Potter was shaking his head.

“Typical,” Potter chuckled.

“Harry-“

“-No, I’m sorry Professor, but this is ridiculous.” Potter took a stride closer, the heat radiating from his cheeks, his back arched slightly in joy. “He can’t honestly think he just play dumb? I mean, we knew he was a coward but this? He almost raped my friend.”

Raped my friend.

Raped. 

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t!” Liquid slowly descended from the corner of Draco’s hazy eyes.

“Save it Malfoy!” He exasperated. “Dean doesn’t remember anything before he saw you, I had to pull him off you and even then he still wanted you. We all know the tell-tale signs of a love potion, hell I’ve been spiked with a few myself but never that strong. How on earth you managed to brew something that would want to make anyone want to have sex with _you_ I honestly don't know.”

Everything was too much. He slammed his eyes shut. All of his thoughts clouded by the subtle smell of soap and brooms. An intense force putting pressure on his spine. 

“That’s enough Mr Potter.” Potter crept back to the Weasel like a kicked hippogriff. “I will have to contact the Wizengamot Draco… Though, I would be intrigued to know how you brewed this potion on school grounds too.”

His spine cracked, he felt the soft touch of feathers grazing his back under his robes. This wasn’t right. He didn’t do anything. They were wrong. His mate was wrong. His cheeks continued burning up and a cry stuck in his throat. He was spinning again, dancing in a circle with his mate meters away.

“P-Pomfrey...”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've recently got a new job and literally have just got back off holiday so this is a super quick update as it has been a while.
> 
> I hope people are enjoying this as I don't often write on here at all! 
> 
> All of my chapters have been written rater quickly so I do apologise for some errors however if anyone would be interested in becoming a beta for this story that would be amazing if you could let me know!
> 
> Thank you very much for all of the comments and kudos, I really appreciate it xxx

Waking up to be yelled at seemed to have become all too frequent for Draco’s liking. When he came around, he clearly identified the tall windows and robust beds for the Hospital Wing. Once again, it seemed to be empty of patients with only Draco witness to Pomfrey’s rage.

“What were you thinking? Sometimes I swear you’ve got a death wish Draco,” She spat across the cotton sheets pacing back and forth at the end of his bed. 

The ends of her greying hair had started to curl out underneath her peaked hat. Draco rubbed his eyes and attempted a shrug but found he only hissed out in pain. Pomfrey ceased her pacing to watch the young boy wince. 

“Can you feel them sprouting?” She asked in a softer tone. 

Draco paled, more tears threatened to spill over. His heart thumping against his ribcage.

“No. They can’t be,” he furiously shook his head, this was not possible.

Pomfrey carefully approached him, like he was a baby cub and she was out on the Boxing Day hunt. She pulled the steel framed chair from the next bed and dragged it to his bedside. Letting the screeching of the chair legs on stone consume the whole wing.

“Draco,” she sighed “Your wings have begun sprouting.”

He sucked in his dry lips his head still shaking, she placed a warm palm on his clothed knee, making sure not to press too hard.

“You asked for me. When they brought you in I could see them starting to protrude under your robes.”

“Did anyone-“

“-No. I sent them away… You can’t keep hiding this Draco. McGonagall told me what happened.”

It all came flooding back to him like a tsunami. Harry had touched him. Thomas’ hands everywhere. McGonagall’s threats. Harry was upset. Harry shouted. Harry glared. Disgusted. Harry was disgusted. Draco felt a tug at his lower spine. Involuntarily he released a high pitched whine and stared up at the ceiling.

“You had contact with your mate didn’t you?”

He stared at her with irritation. That didn’t matter.

“I have a theory but I need to know what happened from your side.”

Growing up in an oppressive bourgeoisie society he was far from encouraged to share anything with anyone. Geez, his Father decided to not to let him know about his Veela inheritance right up until the month of his birthday. So any other time Draco would have shrugged it all off and sat brooding until she left. But perhaps it was due to the ripping sensations around his spinal cord or being rejected yet again that allowed Draco to erupt.

It was in those following moments, Draco divulged more personal information to Pomfrey than he had ever done to anyone in his life. If the Healer was trained to remain impartial and emotionless, she wasn’t doing a very good job at it. Throughout the Slytherin’s gasps and tears, Madam Pomfrey’s porcelain skin paled over.

“I-I swear, I didn’t touch him, I swear,” Draco finally stuttered out. 

Red trail marks burnt down his face from the tears and his chest was harshly pulsing as he stared at the woman perched on the side of his bed.

The older woman clasped her skeletal hands together, her eyes watching them meet on her lap. 

“Harry Potter is your mate? I understand your hesitation.”

The boy shrugged.

“It’s a bit of a fucking predicament, right?” 

*****  
Pomfrey refused all of the advances of McGonagall asking about the Malfoy boy. She had spent two days just trying to persuade the headmistress that she only allowed the Death Eater rest in the hospital wing, not a treatment in sight. This had led to the confrontation in the quaint office across from the ward.

“Poppy, I understand you are trying to do your job, but Hogwarts cannot be seen treating him,” the Headmistress hissed over the small oak desk in the centre of the room. “I know it must go against all of your training but we are on thin ice since the war.”

“I have told you this Minerva, I am simply letting the boy rest.”

“He assaulted a boy. The Thomas’ are fully aware of this and I need to be able to give them answers, it’s one thing allowing Malfoy back into our classrooms but for the parents to hear about this would surely ruin us! He tried to sexually assault one of my boys, I’m sorry I can’t let this blow over. I had hoped he would have matured after the war but obviously, he hasn’t and honestly I am inclined to say Azkaban might be better suited to him.”

Poppy lightly sighed, the soft pads of her fingers rubbed against her eyelids. She completely understood what McGonagall was saying but not one other person knew the full story. Watching the Malfoy boy break in front of her was difficult, of course, the boy was a menace in his younger years but nobody deserved the agony he was in. Truthfully, when she was first approached by the boy she was strongly inclined to tell him where to get off but as he got weaker and weaker she couldn’t help but allow her maternal side take over. 

“I have already said, I am allowing him to rest and nothing more.”

“Please do not see me as an ignorant fool Poppy, how long have I know you for now? Thirty years? I do not want to have to investigate your position but for the safety of my students I will.”

The words hung in the air as heavy as a noose.

After a few moment, the Healer stood from behind her tattered desk and headed towards the exit, quickly flinging the door open.

“Unless you are here to visit a patient Minerva, I must to urge you to leave this wing”

*****  
“You can’t come here anymore,” Pomfrey sighed as she waved her wand over Draco’s head, taking his vitals.

The blonde frowned.

“What? But my wings?”

“I can’t treat you anymore,” Pomfrey tucked her wand back into her belt and perched on the side of the bed. Her burgundy robes were a harsh invasion of colour on the cream sheets. “I fear I will be under investigation soon.”

“Oh,” his eyes dropped to his hands, suddenly enthralled with how his bones had begun to protrude through his skin. 

Deep down, Draco was more than aware of this eventuality. After discovering there were no more potions for him, it was a frequent worry. He couldn’t expect anyone to want to go out of their way to aid an Ex-Death Eater. His death was fast-approaching and it was probably going to meet him before the month was up.

“I am not going to lie to you Draco. Your condition will worsen dramatically if you do not have contact with your mate, your wings are already sprouting and I would estimate a week until they appear. This will be agonising for you without having your mate there. After they have come out you really will only have a couple of months left Draco if you don't have your mate.”

His jaw slacked, only the shredding of his back to pulled him out of his state of numbness.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one night, I have officially shocked even myself

If you ask Draco how long it took for him to realise somebody was following him on his journey from the Hospital Wing back to the dungeons, he would probably say a matter of seconds. In reality, he was so focused every prickle by his vertebrae that he didn’t even see the large arm wrap around his waist until he was pulled roughly into an empty classroom.

It seemed to be one of the older Charms classrooms that was only used now to host hormonal teenagers and the occasional governors meetings. The large tiered seating area still dominated the entirety of the room. It was in this very room Draco cast his first successful Lumos. 

Draco let his sunken eyes flicker around the abandoned desks before landing on his captor.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Dean Thomas frowned down at Malfoy. Even through there was only an inch between the two boys, Draco felt tiny in front of the Gryffindor. Draco instinctually wrapped an unsteady hand around the bottom of his wand that poked out of his trouser pocket.

“I’m serious Malfoy,” he took a quick step forward encroaching on the Slytherin’s space and like a dance, Draco mirrored his step so he had his back against the wall.

Everything felt too familiar, the waft of sausages and soap invading his nostrils. Those dark brown eyes penetrating his skull and the stone wall grazing the scabs on his tender back.

“-Are you listening Malfoy?!” Dean’s lanky arms flung around in irritation.

He wasn’t though. He wasn’t listening to Dean at all. 

There was a lack of air in the classroom and all Draco could hear was the slight wheeze on his own breath. Do Veela’s have appalling lungs as well as appalling taste in mates? His throat was open in hopes of allowing just a slither of air into his over worked lungs. What would happened if he fainted now? Pomfrey wouldn’t help. Maybe that would be it. No more waiting for his inevitably painful death, he could just go now with an asthma attack like muggles. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise.

Suddenly his shoulders were on fire, every pore of skin exposed to Thomas’ palms shaking him back and forth.

“Answer me!” 

“G-Get the hell o-off me!” The burning was only getting worse with the prolonged physical contact. Only a mate can touch their Veela. Draco swung his back and forth like a shimmy to escape the touch but Thomas’ grip was too strong. “P-Please…”

“Just say you won’t tell anyone about what happened!” 

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t,” he whimpered.

Thomas shoved Draco right into the wall, his sprouting feather snapping against the corse contact with the stone. He wailed out in agony and sank, greeting the cool floor with relief, his dirty blonde hair stuck to his forehead.

The boy watched Draco crumple like a piece of old parchment then turned to leave him all alone of the floor.

“Wait!”

Thomas halted. His neck allowing him to peer over his shoulder at the voice of a vulnerable Draco Malfoy.

Draco placed his palms either side of his hips and used his remaining strength to shift himself up a little against the wall so he could look right at the other boy.

“Why?” He croaked out.

Thomas’ head quickly shifted to face the ground and his feet that were previously spread apart in a manly stance slowly manoeuvred close together.

“What do you mean?” Thomas whispered carefully, his back still facing Draco.

“You told everyone you couldn’t remember, that I gave you a love potion.” He grunted as another feather crumpled under his robes, “why would you tell people that?”

The room feel into a level of silence where all you can hear is your pulse thumping rhythmically through your ears. Swiftly Thomas turned to face Draco, a look of uncertainty mixed with anger apparent.

Thomas glanced over Draco’s frail body with a dark look.

“You did something to me.” Draco squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the stare, “you’ve been taunting me for weeks! Staring over at the Gryffindor table constantly, hell you even go to our Quidditch practises!”

“B-but I haven’t!” Malfoy squeaked, his eyes still screwed shut.

Even with only the black of his eyelids in front of him, he knew Thomas had closed in on him again. The snapping of heels meeting the stone getting impossibly loud. He could feel the heat of the other boys breath on his cheek, he must have crunched down. 

“Remember, they will alway believe me over you.” Thomas whispered into the shell of Draco’s ear before giving him a swift punch to the gut and walking out.

*****  
“Harry you need to stop obsessing over all of this, it’s unhealthy!” 

Hermione had taken Harry down to the lake to get his mind of everything. Since the war, Harry struggled with just switching off. He was constantly on high alert for anything and everything. To anybody else, being told they could return to Hogwarts and just go back to normal, they would jump at it. Not Harry though. Harry definitely wouldn’t have chosen to return to the castle if he had known what was expected of him. He was thrown back into a dormitory with four other teenage boys whose main topic of conversation was how bouncy female Quidditch players boobs were. He was also just expected to sit in Transfiguration and attempt to change a melon into a bookshelf. Plus, he was expected to deal with all of the people who wanted to cling to him for a slice of the fame - honestly they can have it! The teachers who followed him to war would tell him off for addressing them by their first name, he had has so many detentions this year for casting spells ‘ _a wizard your age shouldn’t know’_ \- even if those were the spell that won them the war! Worst of all, if he felt like anything fishy was occurring the staff and Order would straight away put him down telling him just to focus on his studies. He was expected to just be a normal seventeen year old wizard but carry the burden of being ‘the chosen one’.

“I’m not obsessing! I’m merely viewing the whereabouts of everybody.” Harry replied without even looking up from the yellow stained parchment open on his lap. If his eye had been on the feet labeled Draco Malfoy… Well there is nothing wrong with being vigilant.

Hermione sighed dramatically, her wiry hair struggling to remain behind her ear in the wind.

“Have you heard that Ravenclaw are holding a social gathering next Friday night?” 

Harry forced out some disinterested noise his head still stuck on the map. 

Malfoy had left the hospital wing. All of Gryffindor couldn’t understand why the Slytherin had been in the hospital wing for two days when he didn’t get hurt, Dean only went in for a brief check up and was out within the hour. Rumours had gone round that they were keeping him there for the Aurors to come and take him to Azkaban, but obviously this wasn’t true. The inky foot prints elegantly danced across the second floor until they went quickly off course into a classroom. Harry stared at the second name in the room, _Dean Thomas-_

“-Harry!” She elbowed him right in the side before glaring, “are you even listening to me?”

“Okay, okay!” He carefully folded the antiqued parchment away and slipped it into his leather satchel by his feet, “I’m all ears!”

“Good! What I was saying is, there is this social event next Friday that Ravenclaw are hosting, I think it is to do with bringing all of the houses closer together after the war really. But anyway, I have told Luna that we would go, you know how disappointed she would get if we didn’t turn up! However, I am unsure of what to do now with the whole ‘Ron’ thing! I mean we kissed that one time, but emotions were heightened and he has never mentioned it again! What if he has forgotten and-”

“-Hermione,” Harry stared the girl hard in the face, her cheeks flushed with panic, “you need to stop obsessing over all of this.”

A slight smirk pulled onto Harry’s lips.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, life has been really crazy at the minute. My department at work has been shut down and I was made redundant so I've not been in the right mindset to be writing. So this chapter may be a bit stiff but hopefully it will fill the gap! Please let me know your thoughts xx

There was a silence left behind by Dean Thomas, that echoed through the whole second floor. The loneliness consumed his fragile form as he lay huddled in a mass of oversized robes on the floor. The pain inside him was becoming all to familiar, while he could barely endure the shredding skin of his spine, nothing hurt more than the anaesthesia of false hope. 

The inevitable was fast approaching, every breath he took felt like a breath too many. He wanted it to be over. 

Thomas was right, nobody would believe Draco over somebody who fought for the right side of the war. For the first time in his life, Draco didn’t want to hold on any longer. It was unlikely that he would even be able to pass this year and even more unlikely he would be alive by Christmas. There was no point for his existence, he was more of a hinderance than help to anyone. He could feel the chill of a droplet gather in the corner of his eye and sail smoothly down his porcelain skin.

“Did you know inexperienced Veelas attract more Wrackspurts than the average wizard?” 

Out of the doorway, Lunny Lovegood stepped dramatically into Draco’s view wearing a pair of bazaar glasses and a dopy smile. Her pleated pink skirt swung around her thighs, just above a pair of mismatching knee socks. Draco nervously pushed himself back against the wall staring at the peculiar blonde.

“I’ve been studying their movements this year and they’ve moved away from their normal spots like they are focusing on something bigger, more important”, carelessly she bounced forward and slipped onto the marble floor next to a jittery Malfoy. “Young Veela are uncommon here, no wonder they love you.”

Draco hadn’t taken his eyes off the Ravenclaw, “I-I don’t understand.”

“That’ll be the Wrackspurts.” Carefully Luna carefully placed her hand on Draco’s shaking thigh, covered by his trousers and smiled up at him, “you’re in pain. You should be with your mate.”

His breathing became erratic, he bought his head down into lap and slowly started rocking back and forth. The darkness engulfing his every emotion, only the soft tones of Luna humming connecting him to the outside world.

*****

It took forty minutes for Luna to coax Draco out of his state, her soft harmonies and appropriate touch slowly relaxed him. She never left his side though, even Pomfrey had walked away eventually but Luna stayed. She wasn’t scared of his dark past, nor did she taunt him for being weak. She just sat with him until he could stand and then walked alongside him to the dungeons.

“Ravenclaw are hosting a social gathering Friday, you should come…” Luna’s smooth Irish accent filled the empty corridors, it was strange to have a conversation with a willing participant. “Dean isn’t a bad person Draco, but I do think he is wrong.”

Draco gnawed on his bottom lip, focusing on the floor and murmured, “he isn’t wrong.”

Luna suddenly halted and turned to the boy, “why would you say that?”

“Nobody believed me and they won’t. I taunted him, I made him-“

“-It’s called allure Draco. You can’t control it.” 

He frowned, tilting his head to look at the girl, “allure?”

“Yes,” she giggled and proceeded down the corridor to the entrance to the dungeons. “Young Veela can’t control it, I think that’s what happened with Dean.”

“But what is it?”  
“Allure?” Draco nodded, stopping at the intricate snake pattern on the wall, “Veela produce allure to attract their mate, as you are unbonded you probably are producing it without you realising.”

It took Draco a minute to process, “so how do it stop it?”

“Easy!” Luna twirled elegantly away back down the corridor, “find your mate!” 

Another piercing pressure erupted from his lower back. His hips jolted forward in reaction and one knee gave out causing him to stumble off balance. 

Luna let her pleated skirt dance around her as she retreated smiling up at the celling the whole way.

*****

The eerie green light flickered as the opening of the Slytherin Common Room appeared and Draco stepped inside. He tried not to spend much time in the Common Room anymore, with the majority of Slytherin student dead or blaming Draco for the deaths, it wasn’t a positive atmosphere. 

Empty emerald armchairs were scattered around the dark room and a crisp sound of flames flickering from the fireplace filled Draco’s ears. He kept his head bowed and limped forwards to the dormitories, letting his fringe fall in his face. Every step he took, his worn italian oxfords scuffed the surface of the plush carpet. 

His head was spinning with too much information, Luna would probably blame the Wrackspurts. All Draco knew was he needed his bed and dittany for his back-

“-Dray, Dray, Dray…”

He halted at the shrill voice. It had been months since he had been called that name. Lifting his sunken eyes his gaze fell on the one and only Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy was draped across the hard leather sofa. She was laying on her side, her head propped up by her arm, her legs perfectly placed to highlight the shortness of her skirt and the top of her stockings. 

The war had had many effects on people, but Pansy seemed to have blossomed through the carnage. She had grown in to her curvaceous figure, had a sudden disregard to all school uniform rules and point blank avoided Draco like he single-handedly put her father in Azkaban. 

“You don’t look so hot sweetie” she purred, suddenly twisting herself to sit up to face Draco. 

Even with ‘allure’ Draco was sure he looked a right mess. For one, his hair was absolutely filthy, two, he had dried blood all over him and third his pale skin appeared ghostly in the candlelight. 

“What do you want Parkinson?” He glared.

She slowly crossed her legs, not taking her eyes off his grey ones.

“Oh, how the mighty Malfoy has fallen…” She seductively licked her chapped lips, “first a traitorous Death Eater and now, I’ve heard a rapist?”

Draco clenched his fists and felt his traps tense around the open wounds on his back.

“Nothing to say hunny? I mean I finally understand now.” She carefully brushed down her skirt and stood up, slowly stalking towards Draco, “I mean it bothered me for months, that night. What did I do so wrong? Why couldn’t you get it up?”

Her approach reminded Draco of a tiger teasing its prey and her hips were slowly swinging back and forth. 

“Now, either I don’t have the right ‘equipment’ or I was just too easy for you.” Pansy’s breath invaded Draco’s space and even through they weren’t touching her chest was brushing against his loosened tie. “Do you want me to fight you, because it would be my pleasure?”

Her perfume was invading his senses, a strong overbearing smell of berries capturing him. Her manicured hand rose to brush his cheek and he felt the surging burn under his skin even before she touched him.

He gritted his teeth and clapped his eyes shut, “stop Pansy. Just stop.”

“Ah, so you did just want a fight,” her hand slipped down from his cheek on to stubbled jaw, slowly caressing down his sweating torso until she rested her hand gently over his crotch.  
Draco could taste the metallic tang of blood swilling around in his saliva, his entire body was vibrating in rage. The insides of his eyelids were printed with the shining green of Harry Potter’s orbs, he knew that memory would come back to haunt him. 

Her fingers ghosted around the seams of his trousers and then they cupped him, hard.

In seconds, Pansy flew across the Common Room. Her back slamming into the ebony tiles surrounding the fireplace. The Young Witch rolled her head against the tiles, “Draco, what the fu-?!”

“-I-I-I’m so, so s-sorry…” he weeped. Every part of him was shaking, his dirty blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. He felt a relief like never before, she was off him but suddenly he could feel the coolness of urine spreading where Pansy’s wandering hands had been. He had pissed himself, he was mortified and scared, everything felt so foreign to him. Pansy was looking at him in disgust. He was disgusting.

Pansy quickly shuffled onto her knees, an unsteady arm reaching out to point at him, her green eyes wide in awe. He could see clearly that her crisp white blouse now had two equal slashes through it with red slowly seeping to the cotton. He peaked down to his hands and saw his fingers replaced with short bloody talons. The scales surrounding the sharp appendages blended seamlessly with his pasty white skin. “D-Draco, you have w-wings!”

No.

No. He felt queasy. He quickly turned towards the large silver mirror that hung to the side of the room and was decorated with elegant snakes swirling into flourishes. His body moved with more ease than expected, although a hefty weight pulled him downwards. 

It had been days since Draco has captured his reflection, even in passing and as he approached the first thing he saw was feathers. Scrawny feathers. Scrawny, silver feathers, tainted in crimson.

The feathers barely covered the pale skeletal structure spread from behind his back. The span was approximately a metre and half, making the emaciated boy look even smaller. His robes were ripped around his back, a seeping spot of shame surrounding his crotch and a layer of sweat glossed against his skin.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the longest chapter I've posted so far but I felt like I owed you guys it after waiting for so long! I've literally just finished it so I can't be one hundred percent certain about errors, I just wanted to get it up. Please enjoy xx

“Draco…” Pansy appeared in the background of his reflection, a shocked face encroaching in his view.

Nervously, he spun around to look at the girl face to face and smacked her in the shoulder with his wings, “ow, Draco!”

Sensitive wouldn’t even describe the sensation of human flesh touching his balding wings. One touch felt like a thousand needles pricking his skin, he was burning up. His blood sizzling at an alarming rate.

Potter. He needed Potter. Harry. For what seemed like the tenth time that day Draco began crying, letting the droplets gather at his waterlines. Pansy shouldn’t be here, she should not be seeing his wings. Harry should. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Pansy reached out to comfort the winged boy, “Draco-“

“-No!” He stepped back, out of reach. He wings flaring up.

She dropped her arm, pulled at her skirt and returned to hugging herself. All looks of seduction gone from her eyes, all that was left was pity.

“Y-you’re Veela?”

Draco sunk to his shaking knees, cuddling in on himself. Automatically the wings surrounded his body too, concealing him from the Young Witch.

Carefully, Pansy mimicked Draco’s movements and dropped to the soft carpet. “I’m so sorry Draco,” her voice smooth like honey. “I’ve been such an awful friend to you Dray. And just now, I really don’t know what came over me…”

Erratic whimpers came from behind the skeletal wings, “go away… Please.”

Running a hand through her tamed hair, Pansy quickly shook her head, “no.”

Draco’s head emerged slowly from behind his manmade cover, the red in his eyes matching the patches of blood on the wings. Pansy leant in closer, on her hands and knees. The Veela appearing taken aback.

“I left you once Dray… I refuse to leave you again,” she weeped. “I’m honestly so sorry Draco. I got caught up in what everyone was saying about you. I let it all happen, I watched them tease you, beat you and I sat back and watched…”

His wings drooped allowing Pansy to finally look Draco eye to eye.

“You’re unwell, Dray.” Carefully without touching his skin, she moved a strand of coarse blonde hair from his eyes, “I mean I’m no expert but shouldn’t you be with your mate? …Unless, am I your mate?”

He pulled sad smile and looked to the floor.

“No Pansy, I wish it was that easy,” he allowed his voice to seep out. He let his eyes drift over the pathetic wings resting on his legs. “They won’t go back in, this shouldn’t have happened.”

“Draco, I promise I’ll help you.”

*****

The sunlight seeped through the gaps of the emerald drapes surrounding the bed, penetrating Draco’s eyelids. The crisp bedsheets dissimilar to his own, surrounded his clothed body. A sharp shadow danced across the side of his drapes.

“Dray, darling? Are you awake?”

Wide eyes, Draco pushed himself further up the bed, ignoring the twists of pain and peeked his head around the drapes trying to avoid eye contact, “um morning Pansy.”

The teen witch pulled the curtain to one side and perched on the side of the bed, revealing the girl’s dormitory to Draco . Her hair had began waving at the ends and her face bare of make up, she looked much younger now.

“They’ve gone now Dray,” she whispered. He quickly reached over his shoulders and felt nothing but the rips in his clothes. “They disappeared as you drifted off.”

He felt so exposed, she had seen far too much. Slowly he pulled his knees up to his chest under the sheets and took a glance around the dorm.

“None of the Slytherin girls in our year came back except me, I thought it would be best you slept here rather than face the boys.”

“Thank you,” if the boys had seen Draco’s wings they would have destroyed him, he was barely safe in that bed at the best of times.

“I know I said it last night,” she murmured, looking down at her lap. “But I honestly am so sorry Draco, for everything. I feel so foolish, something just came over me, I wanted you to want me after hearing about Dean Thomas…”

Draco could feel his throat clenching at the memories, he swallowed hard trying to push down the sickly feeling.

“I shouldn’t have brought up the past, I knew you were traumatised about not being able to, you know, do it. It was unfair.”

Silence fell between the two, the tension uneasy and building. Pansy shuffled slightly on the cotton sheets while Draco focused on the creases on the bottom sheet.

*****

Draco had been horrified that night. His Mother had been goading him into a relationship with the Parkinson girl for years and as the War was quickly approaching they needed to act. Lucius had supported the arrangement, the plan to get Pansy pregnant and if successful, marry fast. So, if Draco died, there would still be a legitimate heir to the Malfoy fortune.

They were sent to the West Wing of the Manor, to an old guest bedroom to consummate their relationship. Draco recalls Pansy wearing a hideously traditional nightgown that barley contained her. If you had asked him two years ago, he would have laughed at the ugliness of the piece and demanded she removed it for his pleasure. However, it was different. He was scared, it was the horizon of the war. He was essentially being forced to procreate because he may die and honestly he couldn’t find an ounce of arousal. She striped off, letting her breasts bounce free. She aided him in removing his clothes and getting to the bed. You could see the upset in her eyes when he removed his silk boxers. They spent the next hour trying to get him ready but it never came. He was embarrassed, that wasn’t what should happen to a Malfoy. He normally relished in the sight of Pansy’s slightly see-through and low cut tops but it just wasn’t working. All he could see were a pair of bright evergreen eyes.

Two days later was his seventeenth birthday.

*****

Over the next couple of days, Draco resided in the girl’s dormitories, only leaving for classes. He had even taken up eating in the Kitchens with the house elves after meal times. Fortunately, his wings hadn’t made another appearance yet, he wasn’t sure he would be able to afford them bursting out through another pair of his robes.

Pansy had been full of delight at the prospect of reviving their friendship, asides from their conflicting timetables she rarely left his side. It was starting to grate on Draco if he were honest. They were strolling through the bitter wind of the courtyard, the branches of ice bare with only a hint of overgrown moss surrounding the trunk. It would be a while until they stumbled into spring, Draco was thankful of that. The harsh chill surrounding the castle was weaving its way around, this meant the blonde boy could hide. Layers upon layers. Practically everything he owned was wrapped around his thinning body. Double knit and Aran yarn weaving his own personal cocoon. Except Draco wouldn’t make it to the Spring time. He wouldn’t become a butterfly-

“-Do you think Annabelle Swash knows her boyfriend can’t take his eyes of you?”

“What?” Draco raised his gaze from the icy cobbles to Pansy’s eye line. She was right, there he was as plain as day, a sixth year boy staring at Draco. Instinctively, he pulled up at the itchy scarf covering his mouth and looked back to the stonework.

“He could be your mate Dray!” She nudged into his side hard, ignoring Draco’s weeps of pain. “You should go over!”

The Malfoy boy mumbled something under his breath and shuffled forward quickly.

“Dray! Be serious, they won’t just magically appear under your nose!” If only she knew.

“Just leave it Pansy!” He snapped, louder than he anticipated. “Stop shoving your nose in where it isn’t wanted!”

Her mouth fell open. A number of pale faces looking up from their own conversations and scowled at the Death Eater.

“I’m just trying to help you!” She squared up to him, ignoring the prying eyes, “I thought after everything you would stop being such an arsehole!”

The five foot four girl stormed passed Draco, purposefully smacking her shoulder into his ribcage. He doubled over in pain, water bunching in his eyes.

“Hello Draco. ” Through blurry vision, he looked up to see Lunny Lovegood dressed in a peculiar lion headdress that wouldn’t have looked out of place at Hogsmeade’s annual circus. “You shouldn’t have shouted at her… Would you like to join me?”

He tried to shake his head, but he could taste bile coming up his throat.

“Come on Draco,” she smiled and twirled around. All of the bodies surrounding the courtyard watched in intrigue. So Draco aimlessly followed.

They moved inside the warm stones of the castle and found themselves in a quiet window seat in the East Wing. They mainly sat in comfortable silence, Luna reading a magazine upside-down and Draco fiddling with the ends of his knotted scarf.

“How did you know?”

Luna’s bright blue eyes appeared over the pages of the Quibbler, frowning slightly.

Draco peered down the corridor and back to the blonde girl, “that I’m a… a… you know?”

Her thin cherry lips quirked into a sweet smile, “you weren’t very discreet Draco.”

“Oh-“

“-Hey Luna.” A velvetiy voice waltzed down the corridor, those two words leaving Draco’s core vibrating. He didn’t need to look up to know why he had suddenly started perspiring.

“Hello Harry.”

“Sorry I’m late, I was- Oh,” his head was down but he felt the dark gaze of those emerald eyes bore into the side of his skull. “What’s he doing here?”

Clumsily, Draco wrapped himself tighter in his robes, having to bum shuffle slightly on the tiles to free the excess fabric he was sat on. He wanted to flee but he was a still as the water on the lake. All the memories of Potter swirling in Draco’s mind. Disgusting. Pathetic. Stay out of my way. Disgusting. Disgusting.

“This is my new friend Harry, Draco Malfoy,” at the sound of his name Draco peered up at Luna who was beamed at a bemused Potter. She quickly turned to him, “Draco, this is my friend Harry Potter.”

Both boys looked at the whimsical blonde like she had grown a second head. Whatever dangerous game Luna was playing, Draco was sure he didn’t want to be part of it. He braced himself to leave.

Potter spoke first,“Luna-“

“-Oh!” In seconds she had pulled herself off the floor, “I forgot the notes, please forgive me Harry! It must be the wrackspurts - Draco has lots of them!”

“No, it’s fine Luna, don’t worry about it now,” Potter awkwardly shook his head, allowing his overgrown locks bash side to side. He took a definitive step away from Draco without so much as actually acknowledging him.

“Don’t be silly, I will be right back!” She sang as she skipped down the corridor.

Draco took this opportunity to snatch a glimpse of Potter. He had ran a calloused hand through his unruly stands and watched Luna dance into the dark. His skin had a wondrous sheen to it, like he had just been flying or having sex. The latter made Draco’s skin cold. Overall, he just looked tired. There were sunken circles framing those eyes and his lips a pastel of their normal vibrancy. There was a slight hint of stumble protruding around his jawline and following down half of his neck, but his body was slouched. Draco noticed how his body had almost moulded against the window frame, curving like an ’s’ to accommodate his tired spine.

“-Why were you with Dean?”

Those orbs of forest green shone down into Draco’s but there was a harshness in the way Potter’s eyebrows sunk into his nose. Draco couldn’t breath, the air was too thick and full of moisture. All he needed to do was re-inflate his lungs but it felt like someone had burst one, like he was an flat bicycle tyre and every rotation allowed the remaining air to seep out-

“-Malfoy?”

_One, two, three._

_Breathe._

_One, two, three._

_Breathe._

“I don’t know what you are talking about Potter,” he managed to wheeze out. He kept a clenched fist pulsating under robes, the occasional droplet of blood rolling into his palm.

Potter turned directly to the boy on the floor, looking down on him. “I know you were with him, in that classroom.”

“F-Fuck off Potter.” He could feel the familiar stinging of his vertebrae.

Before Draco could even capture his next breath, Potter was in front of him. His clothed knee mere inches away from Draco’s, his rhythmic breaths smacking Draco in the face.

“What did you do to him Malfoy?” Harry’s voice had deepened slightly, unhelpful to Draco’s natural physical instincts. “If you hurt him-“

“-Nothing, I did nothing. We-we just spoke…”

Green bored into grey, “about what?”

Draco clasped his eyes together and turned to the floor. A wild mixture of wood and cinnamon filling his every scent. He couldn’t place it but there was a hint of something - someone else, he didn’t like it.

“Malfoy. About what?” He tone was short and demanding.

His mind was clouded, everything was full of Potter. He was so close, if he outstretched a finger it would brush with the tanned flesh.

“An apology… I wanted to a-apologise.”

The corridor fell still for a moment until a sarcastic laugh erupted from the bottom of Potter’s gut, it was cruel and taunting.

“Really Malfoy? Don’t think you’re getting to old for this act?” Draco twisted his head to face his Mate, every second burning into his irises. Potter sat back on his heels.“…You need to start actually owning up to the shit you put others through, if it wasn’t for Pomfrey you wouldn’t even be here right now Malfoy…”

Potter pulled himself back to his feet, dusting his light wash jeans down. Draco noticed he had a loose lace on one of his scruffy baseball boots. He didn’t mention it.

“…Tell Luna I’ll catch her another time.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back off my holiday and I've managed to get myself a new job! This chapter is a bit of a filler for the next one. I'm not completely happy with how this chapter is but I just wanted to get something up xx

He could hear the rhythmic tapping of hard soled shoes approaching. Each smack on the stonework a countdown to reality. His lips had thinned and his eyes focused on the wall ahead of where he perched.

“You were gone for forty minutes,” he uttered an exasperated snort.

“I know.” 

“He left.”

He turned his neck to her, the rest of his body too rigid to move. She stood smiling at him without a care in the world. She was clearly choosing to ignore the fact Draco was almost hyperventilating and hadn’t moved an inch from where she left him.

“I know,” she smiled and twirled away.

Draco couldn’t see any paper in her hands either.

*****

A flash of red hair darted between the crowds on the staircases up to the third floor. Harry manoeuvred through the robed bodies until he could wrap his hand around her wrist pulling her back to him.

“Oh hello,” Ginny beamed down on her boyfriend. 

“Fancy a walk?” Harry pulled his lips into a smile, playfully tugging on Ginny’s wrist. She nodded vigorously, skipping back down the stairs, her hand entwined with Harry’s. 

They strolled silently through the grounds towards the Quidditch pitch, Harry wrapping his arm tightly around Ginny’s small waist.

“Why is it we always end up here?” She had become quite familiar with this route over the past couple of weeks. She could see the smirk rise on Harry’s face as he rushed toward the patinated door, disappearing inside.

Ginny frowned slightly, wondering if she could actually pinpoint the moment Harry distanced himself for her. She let her feet fight against the dewy grass and prised open the doors to the locker room.

In seconds she was thrown against the wall by a shirtless figure. The scratching of stumble rubbing against her porcelain neck. The pads of Harry’s fingers pressing hard into her sides, sliding up her ivory blouse revealing her lace lilac bra. The small room filled with the scent of body odour and her neck wedged against a coat hook.

“Harry stop,” she whispered, trying to wiggle out of his strong grip. He clearly didn’t notice as his tongue lapped up the side of her jaw, arms caging her against the wall. “Stop it Harry.”

“Ginny,” he moaned, rutting up against her small frame, her pleated skirt creasing further up her thighs.

“Harry!” She shouted, pushing him back with all the force she could muster. His scuffed leather shoes tripping him over his cloak, back into the benches.

“Are you okay Ginny? What’s wrong?” His eyes were wide with worry, his breath thumping against the cold air.

“No, I’m not okay actually,” she sighed. Slowly she approached the concerned Raven Haired Boy and slipped down next to him, her hands finding his. “Be honest with me Harry, have I done something wrong?”

“What on earth are you on about?” Harry frowned, turning his whole body to face his girlfriend.

“You don’t talk to me anymore,” she whispered softly to the floor. “All you ever seem to do is bring me here and once we’re done, we’re done.”

Harry threw his head back in exasperation, his eyes clasped shut. “Ginny, please don’t do this.”

“Why? Don’t I deserve the truth Harry?”

“Yes, of course you do Gin… I love you but it’s just not that simple.”

“Well, explain it to me then!” Ginny quickly stood up, placing herself strategically between Harry and the exit.

“I can’t… Gin, I’m sorry if I offended or upset you,” he stood up and grabbed his shirt, throwing it over his shoulders. “I promise I’ll make more of an effort.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” 

Harry wrapped his arms around her, letting his chin rest on the top of her head and his fingers played with her hair. Ginny smiled into his exposed chest, her breath falling in rhythm with his.

*****

“My, my, my… What do we have here?” Cooed Pansy. 

She was lying on her front across her bed in an satin green pyjama set, a divination book wide open and quill twiddling between her fingers. Draco stood uncomfortably in the doorway, his cheekbones hollow and red rimmed eyes.

“Oh, is this a rare Malfoy apology?” She sarcastically feigned shock and twisted to sit up.

Draco mumbled something inaudible.

“Did you say something Dray?”

He slapped a hand over his face and rubbed his swollen eyes. “Pansy. I’m sorry.”

“Amazing,” she erupted in a fit of giggles and jumped off her bed, stalking up to Draco. Once in front of the decaying boy she suddenly stopped, all emotion dropping off her face.

“What the hell has happened?” Instinctively, she raised her hand to comfort the boy. He recoiled into the wooden door frame. “At least sit down.”

Draco didn’t make it to the bed, he crumpled down onto the floor. His robe catching on a splinter of wood on the doorframe. 

“How long do you think I have left?” Wide grey orbs stared across the girl’s dormitory looking right through Pansy.

Pansy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, water gathering in her eyes, “Draco…”

“Pomfrey said Christmas.” He rolled his head back against the wall. “Do you think it could happen sooner? I’m just so fucking tired.”

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered holding back her tears. “No! No, I won’t let it happen. We’re going to find your mate, you’re going to to be okay Draco.”

He sucked in his lips and shook his head, “I won’t Pans, he doesn’t want me.”

“He?” She blinked hard. Draco groaned in response, this couldn’t get worse. “You know who your mate is?”

He reluctantly nodded.

“Well, who?”

Draco dropped his head into his hands, letting his boney fingers sift through his greasy hair. It felt like his ribcage was on fire, scorching his flesh from inside out. “Please don’t make me say it… He just doesn’t want me.”

“Who wouldn’t want you Dray?” Her eyes were bouncing around the room to avoid looking in his vacant eyes. There was a strong atmosphere in the dormitory that felt like giving up.

“He has a girlfriend Pans and she’s… Nice, he even smells like her most of the time… It makes me want to rip her limb from limb.”

Pansy gravely laughed, “so do it?”

He attempted to rise half his mouth into a crooked smile and shook his head. “No, he’s happy.”

“For fuck sake Draco!” She flung her arms in the air dramatically. “The first time you decided to be bloody selfless.”

He shrugged feeling his eye lids slowly dropping.

“He deserves to be happy, I can’t destroy that,” he murmured.

“But you’re happy about destroying yourself in return.”

Groaning, Draco prized his eyes apart. Black dots dancing in the forefront of his vision. “He’s worth it.”

“You’ve got this allure thing anyway specifically for getting the attention of your mate,” she was exasperated. “Just use it!

“It doesn’t work like that, he hates me more now than he ever has anyway,” he croaked. “Who would want a convicted Death Eater and attempted rapist near them?”

Pansy choked out a cry wishing she could reach out and console him, help him, anything. Draco’s head rolled against the door, the whites of his eyes falling back. He was mumbling something, his lips too dry to open fully. Pansy leant in closer, making sure to avoid physical contact. She could hear the rise and heavy fall of his chest.

The words he uttered, she wished she misheard “…turn myself into Azkaban.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts in the comments please? Pretty sure this is my longest chapter to date!

Friday morning was uncharacteristically normal. There were no ruckuses on the stairs nor arguments about seating arrangements in Charms. Draco managed to mill around the castle pretty much undetected all morning, nobody had spoken to him and he was okay with that.

He occupied a small desk in the back corner of the classroom, last year he would have been accompanied by Blaise and Theo. All three of them pissing about, trying to throw spells over Flitwick’s head and blame the other students. Now, Draco sat alone trying to scratch down every word the professor said while regretting not paying attention before. Flitwick waddled down the middle of the banks of desks, chalk continuing to scratch down his notes.

“Now who knows what the Illegibilus charm does?” Flitwick paused, his head pointed up at his students. “Anyone?”

A couple of waving arms were outstretched. Draco kept his head low, his shaking fingers urgently flicking through his scrolls.

“Mr Malfoy?” Flitwick stood at the end of his desk with a pointed look on his face. All of the students had stoped, each face homing in on him. The confident hands quickly recoiling to their owners.

“Sir…” He croaked out, he could feel a thin trail of sweat coursing down his temple. 

Flitwick sighed and turned on his heel, “disappointing. Anyone else?”

“It makes text unreadable sir.”

“Excellent Miss Weasley!” Flitwick clapped. Draco raised his eyelids and watch the Weasley Girl’s back straighten at the praise.

Due to class sizes some subjects had to mixed in with seventh years, hence why she was sat directly in front of him. She was sat next to some other seventh year who Draco had no interest of knowing, they were both smugly smiling. Weasley throwing her hair over one shoulder before leaning down to take more notes. The scent of brooms and cinnamon wafting over to his desk.

Unfortunately, Draco had no real issue with Ginevra Weasley. If anything, she was up until recently his favourite of the clan. She was fiery and ferociously loyal to her friends, he could most definitely stand behind those qualities. She wasn’t hard to look, if he had to be judgemental. Her hair was relatively well tamed for being a Weasley, she seemed to keep up with her dental care and if he was being nice, her skin was pretty clear. However these days, watching her flaunt Potter in front of him made him want to impale her ginger head on a broomstick to be displayed on the walls of the castle.

The rest of the lesson went relevantly quietly. Draco tried his best to not to burn holes in the back of Potter’s girlfriend but it was incredibly hard. She was seriously distracting him and he needed to concentrate. He might not make it to the end of his education but was sure to have the best grades possible, to finally make his mother proud and she was ruining everything. His studies and his life. 

At the end of the lesson Draco abruptly stood up. His stool screeching against the stonework, the brash noise lost under the other students chitchat. He threw his satchel over his shoulder, the impact providing a twisting pain in his spine and rushed out the door. 

“Mr Malfoy?” Not again. He slowly turned to face an emotionless Professor McGonagall. “If you wouldn’t mind joining me in my office now?”

Draco gulped and quickly nodded.

*****  
It had shocked him to discover that McGonagall had moved in to Dumbledore’s office after the war. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was always by far the most impressive room in the castle. The circular walls reflected the dull red light emitted from the fireplace. The dusted golden frames holding numerous faces of overprivileged wizards looking down on him.

McGonagall drifted up the steps to the risen part of the office, her feet taking her around the expansive desk to sit in a regal chair. It wasn’t the same as Dumbledore’s but it still oozed power and a need for respect.

“Take a seat,” she said, her voice slightly reserved.

He slowly nodded and found himself perched on the edge of the seat across from the headmistress, his fingers scratching the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. He could feel the pores on his porcelain skin bubbling up against his robes.

“I’m sure you are aware of why I’ve asked you here as I received your owl this morning,” she spoke quietly. “We need to discuss what happened with Dean Thomas.”

The inside of his throat grew dry.

“You are suspected of some very serious allegations, surely you have more to say?”

He kept his head low, avoiding her stare. There were tiny chip marks in the mahogany, he ran his nails in the grooves wondering what had caused the in the first place.

“Malfoy, you could get sent to Azkaban. I’m sure-“

“-Just fucking do it!” He erupted, leaning forward with his chest heaving. His palms flat on the cool wood and greasy strands of hair fallen over his grey eyes. “I told you I did it! I poisoned him. I did it.”

McGonagall tilted her head slightly, a silver ringlet slipping out of her bun. “Malfoy what are you trying to do here?

“I wanted him to fuck me,” he voice barely a whisper. “I deserve to go to Azkaban, send me away.”

She pursed her lips and moved behind her chair. Her head low as if thinking something through. Draco’s deep breathing the soundtrack to the room, his body shaking.

“I’ve spoken to Madam Pomfrey Draco.”

A quiet ringing vibrated in his ears, his breath rapid. The sides of his vertebrae frozen around his churning stomach. He needed this. This needed to work. He needed to disappear. Get away.

“I. Did. It.” He breathed out. Falling into the back of his chair he screwed his eyes shut. 

She rushed around to the side of Draco’s chair, her robes billowing behind her. She crouched down beside the Slytherin, her boney fingers wrapped around the arm of the chair.

“Draco, I know you didn’t.”

“I did,” he croaked, running a hand over his stubbed jaw. “Please, just send me away…”

“I might not like you Malfoy, but you didn’t do this.” She pushed her heels back and stood above the whimpering boy, “You need to tell me what happened.”

He shook his head.

She sighed, “Madam Pomfrey could end up in serious trouble if you don’t.” 

He inhaled harshly, allowing his chest to puff up with air and let it seep out slowly. He could see Dumbledore eyeing him from the bronzed frame behind McGonagall. He didn’t look at him in frustration or anger, just acknowledgement. Like somehow he already knew this scene would occur.

“Lovegood said it’s allure, or something…” She nodded and slipped back into her seat watching the jittery boy play with his hands. “…I didn’t even know I could do that.”

“It’s incredibly common for young unmated Veela.”

“That’s what she said.” Draco let out a pitiful laugh.

McGonagall carefully pushed her half-moon spectacles up the bridge of her nose and lent forward. 

“Pomfrey tells me you ran out of suppressants. That will be another reason why Dean reacted to you the way he did,” her eyes dotted above the ceiling then back to the boy. “The question is why lie?”

He shrugged, going back to focusing on the scuffs on the wood.

“I’ve heard you refuse to mate,” she rested her hands on top of each other on the desk. “I’m sure you’re aware you have only a matter of weeks if you don’t?”

Draco ran his tongue over his teeth, “can’t refuse what isn’t on offer.”

*****

“There you are!” A shrill voice echoed down the corridor. Pansy stalked towards Draco, her arms crossed fury seeping out of her every pore. “I thought you did something stupid! You missed Potions.”

“McGonagall wanted to see me,” he shrugged pulling his bag up his back, trying not to hiss in pain.

“What did _she_ want? You look bloody awful!” Draco rolled his eyes and started to head back to the common room, Pansy close at his side. Through the archways, he could see the night had pulled in engulfing the castle into what felt like perpetual darkness. “You didn’t tell her you did it, did you?!”

He didn’t reply, just let his heels smack against the stonework. Pansy halted, leaving Draco to skulk away.

“Draco!” He stoped, slowly turning to look at his only friend. His eyes rimmed in purple, his skin dull. 

“She knows,” he threw his arms up exasperated. “I told her I did it. She didn’t believe me, Pomfrey-“

Pansy stepped forward, “-you did what?”

“I’m tired Pansy. I’m so fucking over this, nobody wants me here! You even resent me a little bit. I wanted out, is that so hard to comprehend?” He spat out, hands flailing everywhere.

Everything went quiet, Draco’s shoulders going up and down with every breath. Pansy just stared at the boy, her mouth slightly ajar, eyes watering and breathing heavily.

Draco frowned, “why do you look like a trollop?”

He hadn’t noticed right away but now she was directly in front of him. She was wearing this peculiar acrylic block heel things, an incredibly short denim skirt with a bright yellow belt and a white vest that showed off the vibrant pink shade of her bra straps. 

Her face contoured and her heavily lined eyes dropped to the floor for a moment and then looks at her legs before returning to his gaze.

She started laughing. 

“You’re a twat Draco,” she wiped away the stray tears. Draco let half his mouth go into a smile, a broken laugh slipping out. “It’s the Ravenclaw party tonight.”

Naturally the giggling decreased and they were both left in silence once again.

Pansy looked down to her feet and ran her hands down her skirt, eyes flicking up to meet Draco, frowning. “Do I really look like a trollop?”

“Yes!” He let out an unscrupulous laugh that vibrated down into his stomach.

A smiled beamed on Pansy’s streaky face.

“Well it’s a good you’ve got to get changed too then,” she stated before sashaying passed him.

“I am _not_ going to that party Pansy.”

*****

The two Slytherin’s strolled down the corridor of the castle down towards the Ravenclaw common room. Draco slightly waddling behind Pansy, his hand deep in his pockets trying to push the charmed trousers down about.

“Stop pouting Dray,” she sang. 

“I can barely walk in these-these…things!” He beckoned down to the incredibly tight black trousers suffocating his groin. They were Pansy’s, and that made the whole situation ten times more humiliating, people could literally see the outline of his penis. It was explicit. He also had to wear a charmed black t-shirt that she wore to bed. She had told him it was fine if his wings made an appearance as she wasn’t too attached to it. Not that it made him feel any better.

“Jeans,” she laughed as they approached the doorway. “They’re called jeans!”

“I don’t care,” he muttered, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind his ears. A couple of girls jumping out of the portrait giggling past them.

Elegantly, Pansy twirled in front of him, her hair bouncing around her chin. She did decided to change. Into a black dress that Draco didn’t think look any less ‘trollop-y’, but who was he to judge in his current predicament. She liked it and it distracted Draco from his attempted suicide mission.

“You look amazing Draco,” she clearly wanted to reach out but was restrained herself. “If he is in there, well he’ll be crazy not to fancy you.”

“Stop it Pans.” He felt his stomach bunch up. “We both know I don’t really look like this.”

It had taken around 40 minutes to apply all of the glamours to his body, it had actually made them incredibly late but that was fine in Draco’s opinion. Pansy had assured him she knew what she was doing and let her wand loose. There was nothing more self-deprecating than looking at yourself in the mirror while somebody try to perfect you. She has made him a gain some much needed weight, especially in the bum as she said _the jeans will need to be filled out._ All of his scaring on his torso has been lightly covered in fresh skin, his hair glossy and vibrant plus his face free from sleepless nights and crying.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Let’s go in, yeah?”

Inside was a nightmare waiting to happen. If there had been a lull in socialising due to their arrival, Pansy refused to notice it. Storming past the crowds of students to where the makeshift snack table had been setup, waving Draco over. He kept his head bent down past the Hufflepuff quidditch team and shuffled over the short-haired carpet, trying to ignore the dirty looks and blaring muggle music. When he reached her she was already enthralled in a conversation with a tall Ravenclaw boy, Gavin Stepland. Stepland’s eyes drifted over Draco, turning his nose up at the ex-Death Eater. He wanted to believe Pansy didn’t see it.

“I got this for you,” she barely acknowledged him too interested in whatever the giant arsehole had to say. A goblet of orange liquid thrust into his chest. Splashes of the drink seeping into his shirt. Clearly overstepping, Draco wrapped his fingers around the bronze plated cup. Letting the pads of his fingertips morph around the embellishments.

The dull lighting covered the party, there was a definite buzz surrounding them. He took a swig of the drink, scowling at the harsh attack on his throat. Snippets of conversations filling his ears, he wanted it to stop. In second he slapped his goblet down on a nearby table, empty. 

A couple hours in and Draco was nursing a bottle of firewhisky on the staircase to the dormitories. He hadn’t seen Pansy in an almost an hour, it didn’t matter. He was solely focused on the figure sat underneath the Weasley girl. He took another swig, letting it burn down his throat. The Golden Trio had arrived with the other Gryffindors just after his own arrival. Thomas was there too. They were greeted like royalty, Potter landing a seat right in the middle of the room on an ornamental settee. Crowds engulfing them like flames. Potter sat there laughing with his arm casually draped over his girlfriend waist as she perched on his knees. 

Occasionally she placed her plump lips on the side of Potter’s face and whispered in his ear. She was laughing again, her white teeth reflecting in the crimson flickers of the fire. She looked perfect, not a sign of blemishes anywhere. She has nothing to hide. The look he gave her made Draco’s eyes water in pain. He looked happy. 

“Right everyone, truth or dare!” A slurred voice boomed out over the heavy base.

Cheers erupted, everyone heading to the floor making a circle. Draco stayed laid against the steps, swigging more of the bottle.

“Draco!” He looked up and saw a bleary-eyed Pansy waving at him, “get over here!”

Robotically Draco stood up, letting the alcohol sieve through his body. He stumbled over to the group and fell straight on his arse next to Pansy and Shitland. He knew they were all looking at him, he could even feel Potter’s gaze boring into his cheek.

“Who invited him?”

“Dean this must be hard for you!”

“Why hasn’t he been expelled yet?”

“Or in Azkaban!”

“Somebody should tell him to leave!” 

“Leave him the fuck alone,” Pansy’s voice boomed, everyone stilled. “I’ll hex anyone who even looks at him.”

Nervously, everyone slowly turned back to the game. Draco smiled at Pansy, “You’re a bitch.”

“You love it,” she winked.

It started off relatively tame, Draco trying to understand the muggle game. Everyone was picking dares. A few kisses here and there, one Hufflepuff girl had to take a bra off under her shirt, nothing too drastic. Draco just kept quiet and gulped down his drink. The empty bottle on the floor swirled to a stop at a 7th year Ravenclaw boy who quickly chose truth.

“Who do you fancy in this room?” A girl who Draco didn’t know chuckled. The boy, wide eyed, shook his head. 

“-I-I-,” he looked close to vomiting, his mouth twisting in pain. “-Katie. Katie Bell”

His cheeks flushed vibrantly, shaken palm slapped over his mouth. Katie sat awkwardly to the side of him glancing at the carpet.

“What-,” the boy started.

“-Well here is the time to announce something,” Finch-Fletchley wobbled to his feet glass in hand. “We may have decided to add a few drops of Veritaserum to the punch, for good fun!”

“You can’t do that, it’s immoral!” Granger snapped, Weasley trying to pull her back into his shoulder. “How did you even get Veritaserum?”

Finch-Fletchley slopped back down to the floor, “Slughorn doesn’t always lock the potions cupboard under lock and key, plus it’s just to keep everything interesting!”

Eventually everyone calmed down, their rage dissipating into their drinks. The game continued, secrets slowly unfolding. 

“Dean, truth or dare?” Draco’s eyes lifted, watching the boy sip his drink confidently.

“Dare.”

“Punch Malfoy.”

Draco felt his body freeze, alcohol bubbling in his stomach being the only movement. He knew people were cheering but he couldn’t hear much more, he knew Pansy was shouting but couldn’t determine anything more. His eyes homed in on Thomas approaching him, a smirk plastered on his face. In seconds a curled fist was flung into his jaw, pain seeping into his pores. He spine shaking in agony, Thomas was laughing back in his seat. He was getting praise. 

Thankfully there was no blood, so when Pansy was dared to kiss him he didn’t soil her with crimson and she attempted made it as painless as possible. He found himself the brunt of many dares, majority being girls having to kiss him. The girls finding it absolutely abhorrent and not caring that it was ripping Draco’s insides apart, they were enjoying making him the butt of the joke. 

The insides of his mouth were red raw, blood flooding his throat in pain. He harshly swallowed it down.

“Truth or dare Harry?” Potter glanced to his friends laughing, Draco wanted that sounded embedded in his mind forever.

“Um, dare?”

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Finch-Fletchley glared round the group of students. “With…”

Potter’s eyes glanced to Girl Weasley who gave him an unconvincing smile. Draco felt his heart begin to shatter, the thought of having to watch Potter with someone else make the pricks on his vertebrae heat up.

“…Malfoy.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update...... As always let me know your thoughts x

“…Malfoy.”

Silence. The whole common room dissipated into an overbearing silence, letting his name echo around each and every person. Nausea drifted into Draco’s system, the firewhisky threatening to burn his throat yet again. 

Someone out of Draco’s peripheral vision began abruptly laughing, encouraging a number of students to join in with mocking Draco’s misery. Potter hadn’t moved, his eyes glued to Girl Weasley, who was in turn, glaring at Draco with her mouth wide. 

Throughout the night Draco had noticed Potter had been enjoying a few beverages here and there. His body language being relaxed and loose. Now he sat on the floor like a statue.

“So the rules are simple,” Finch-Fletchley blurted out to the teenagers. “You two have to go in the broom closet down the hall and stay there for seven minutes!”

Draco wasn’t familiar with this muggle game, but seven minutes in each other’s presence seemed just about doable.

“Remember, you have to at least kiss!” The boisterous laughing crescendoed once more. Potter raised his glance and met Draco’s gaze. It didn’t seem angry, there was no disgust or awkwardness but definitely something in his eyes that Draco wasn’t happy about. “Go on then! Oh and remember we’ll be able to ask you if you played by the rules!”

*****

Eventually, with Pansy’s help, Draco pulled himself to his feet. The outcome of all of the alcohol making him softly sway side-to-side, Potter followed suit and soon enough they left the common room. No words were uttered between the two on the journey to the elusive broom closet. Potter just walking ever so slightly ahead, a slight sway to his walk.

The closet could barely hold one of the boys, let alone two. The sharp angle of the shelves dug into his back as Potter shut the door. Draco’s eyes flickered shut, his senses submerged in the woody scent filling the broom closet. He had never had Potter’s body this close by choice before, Draco’s arm hairs were on end and carefully tickling against Potter’s jersey t-shirt. 

“Are you okay?”

He snapped his eyes open, coming face to face with Potter and nervously nodded. His lips could only have been four inches away, Potter’s tiny goblin’s gin breaths coating Draco’s chapped lips.

Metallic liquid had pooled on his tongue, every muscle in his body completely rigid. He was hyperaware of everything Potter did, his body, his eyes, everything. The scabbed marks on his back burning with every intake his lungs took.

“Malfoy?” He slurred, emerald eyes glazed over.

“Potter,” he muttered harshly, letting the blood roll back down his throat.

The Gryffindor sighed lightly, letting his cloudy eyes focus on Draco. “Why didn’t you say anything about Dean?”

Draco dropped his eyes to the ground, there was no way he could face Potter, especially intoxicated. 

“Er, you don’t need to-uh-kiss me,” he uttered.

“What?” Draco could sense Potter’s body push further back against the wall. “That’s not what we’re talking about.”

“I - Er got pretty good last year at resisting certain situations,” he whispered into his robes. “Dark Lord and that…”

“McGonagall told me today,” Potter tumbled slightly back into the shelves letting some items fall to the floor between them. “You would have gone back to prison.” 

Draco clenched his jaw, “maybe…”

“You’re unbelievable Malfoy,” Potter groaned, running a hand through his raven locks. “I’ve never understood you.”

Potter rolled his head back against the wooden shelves and let out an exasperated groan to the ceiling. “Still got like six minutes left, Ginny’s gonna kill me."

At the sounds of her name, a toxic feeling mulled in the bottom of his stomach. All of this was far too much, he shouldn’t have agreed.

“You smell better than her though.” 

Draco’s cold eyes went wide at the statement. Whether it was the alcohol or the potion, Draco noticed Potter had a sheered layer to his skin and a foggy look to his eyes. He shifted his body slightly to be more in life with the Slytherin, an unspoken tension palpable in the air.

“H-Harry…”

“You’ve always been such a riddle to me Malfoy,” a calloused hand raising towards Draco’s vibrantly rosed cheeks. 

A surge of heat exploded in his check the second his mate’s fingerprints danced over his face, every pore invaded with a sense of pleasure he had never known. 

The countdown had stopped and all of Draco’s focus was directly on his mate’s parted lips nearing his. Harry’s lips slowly brushing across Draco’s lower lip, an acidic taste forming between the two boys. A slight flicker of Harry’s tongue, hydrating the Slytherin’s dried lips, each flaked piece of skin suddenly penetrated by his mate’s saliva. He couldn’t move, allowing Harry to suckle on his bottom lip, pulling and releasing. A bubble of ecstasy erupting, droplets of tears seeping from his eyes and delicately landing between him and Harry adding a twist of salt to their taste.

The piercing of flesh began oozing blood into Draco’s shirt, the light itch of feathers sucking his back. The pit of his stomach releasing something he didn’t realise he was even holding onto.

Harry stilled. He stepped back abruptly, eyes cemented on Draco’s crotch. 

“I-I’m-”

He took a deep breath, his eyes blinking manically. The same fingers that had been dancing over Draco’s cheek now rubbed over confused green eyes. In what felt like seconds, those fingers gripped the doorknob and he ran. Leaving the pale blonde boy alone in the cupboard.

 

Shame filled him. One kiss, that was all it took. Potter had to be privy to Draco’s shame. 

Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, the bubbling pleasure quickly turning into a roaring pain ripping his vertebrae apart.


End file.
